


Storms

by elixia13



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Domestic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elixia13/pseuds/elixia13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happiness can come at the strangest of times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storms

I don't know why we had to fight today, when the weather  
was finally giving us a break. It's been so damn hot,  
especially in DC with its bone white buildings reflecting the  
sun and urban planning that doesn't allow for trees. Wearing  
a suit in that is torture, with your collar chafing your  
sweaty neck and your legs trapped in wool. Finally, finally  
the week-end came, and with it cooler temperatures, a breeze,  
some leniency from the sun.

We didn't fight all week. Amazingly, with the heat rubbing  
both of us the wrong way. He bore my occasional sniping  
remark, and I managed to overlook his few surly indulgences.  
We just cranked up the AC in our little rented house in Falls  
Church and kept the blessed peace. We decided that the  
expense of running the electric bill up was worth it to be  
able to sleep in each other's arms at night. We need that,  
that connection.

And do you know what we argued about on such a beautiful  
Saturday evening? Spiders. Spiders. I hate them. Walter knows  
I hate them. Mothmen I can deal with. I can leap unnamed  
government conspirators with a single bound. I fucking hate  
spiders, and these are not exactly Charlotte's Web material  
either. These are mutant white jumping spiders.  
Arachnocricket hybrids that have been performing genetic  
experiments on themselves under this house since it was built  
in 1947. 1947. Roswell. I rest my case. Thank you.

So, anyway, the utility room, where I have to go to do my  
laundry, is infested with these things. I am seriously  
running out of underwear. I want to go out, buy a bunch of  
those bug bomb things, gas the hell out of those spiders and  
be done with it. I think that's reasonable. Walter is a  
reasonable man. Usually. So he should agree.

No. He's of the opinion that we shouldn't kill the spiders  
because they eat insects. He likes having them around. He  
probably thinks we should breed them and give them out for  
Christmas presents to our lucky friends. He insisted that the  
pesticides would kill my fish and give us cancer in our  
waning years.

I told him that if we don't kill those things now, they'll  
eat us before we get a chance to *reach* our waning years.  
That earned me a "Not quite, Mulder" look and  
gratuitous mentions of his experience taking care of a house  
compared to my years of apartment dwelling.

If what I said then was not so kind, it's only because I'm  
sick of that rationale. Ever since we moved into this house,  
he's been in charge, the man of the house. It seems to have  
escaped his memory that his domestic attempts with Sharon  
weren't exactly a success, that he was such the man on top of  
things that he ended up in that sterile box in Crystal City.  
It's like he fixed a few doorknobs over fifteen years and now  
he remembers himself as Bob Fucking Villa.

I know I shouldn't have thrown that in his face. I know, I  
know, how could I have? When I know how much he regrets his  
failure with Sharon. When I know how much his imperfection  
hurts him. When I know how happy it's made him to putter  
around this place making it right for us. I know. I'm a  
bastard sometimes.

He went silent when I mentioned Sharon, got that pursed  
look on his face, cut his gaze sideways. When I was finished,  
he just nodded and walked off. I retreated to the spare  
room/office to do some research online, but I ended up  
playing 17 rounds of Samegame. Pathetic.

After a while, I noticed that I didn't hear any more  
Walter-sounds, but I could hear rain, much-needed rain  
pattering steadily on the roof. I shut down the computer and  
wandered off to look for Walter. I wasn't as angry anymore,  
and I was feeling a bit silly. A bit guilty.

I looked around, and he wasn't in the bedroom or the  
bathroom. No one in the kitchen or the living room. Nobody  
warm-blooded in the spider-den. Perplexed, I finally looked  
out the window and saw him.

He was standing outside in the rain, in the driveway,  
centered in the circle of light from the motion-detector he  
installed. He hand his hands in the pockets of his khakis,  
and he was looking up into the sky. Just looking.

Good God, I thought, what have I done to him? He's going  
to drown in the rain like a damn turkey, and it's all my  
fault. I headed out after him cautiously, the big drops of  
water dampening my hair immediately.

I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there on the  
flagstone path watching him. Slowly, he took his hands out of  
his pockets and turned them upwards towards the sky. It  
looked so strange, so un-Walter, that I started towards him.

When I got to the edge of the driveway, he turned around  
and the look on his face--he was smiling. He had this huge,  
laughing smile on his face. Streams of water were flowing  
down over his smooth head, and his t-shirt was plastered wet  
to his chest, but he was grinning at me like he'd won the  
lottery.

"Walter--" I ventured, questioningly, still  
lurking under the semi-protection of the trees in our yard.  
He reached out for my shoulder and pulled me out into the  
spotlight, into the full force of the rain. It fell warm and  
heavy, spattering me thoroughly until my hair was soaked.

"What the hell is up with you," I asked, but he  
just smiled at me again. It was one of the most amazing  
smiles I have ever seen from him, rivaling even the one on  
his face the first morning we woke up together. His smile lit  
up the drops of rain that passed in front of his face. They  
stood still in the air for his smile and so did I.

"What's up with *you*, Mulder," he laughed.  
"Look at the house; look, see how nice it is? And do you  
know what? I get to share this great house with a man I love  
more than I ever would have thought possible. And do you know  
what else?" As he said this last, his grin got  
unbelievably wider. "This man and I are so blissfully  
happy that we resort to fighting about spiders to pass the  
time."

I felt so ashamed, so ashamed of wanting to deny him his  
domestic tranquillity, so ashamed of hurting him in the one  
place where we can be safe. I looked down, wanting to go on  
my knees before him in the wet gravel. He pulled me close to  
him, so close that our wet shirts stuck together and  
squelched.

He put his arms around me and whispered in my ear,  
"Just stand still, Fox, just stand still. We just have  
to be still for a minute and the light will go out." I  
snaked my arms around his waist and leaned into him, my wet  
cheek on his wet shoulder, smelling the fresh, clean rain on  
his neck.

Sure enough, the light went off after a minute. The rain  
continued as steady as before, but we couldn't see it  
anymore. As wet as we were, we could barely feel it. I felt  
absurdly happy, like a child who's run around in the rain on  
a warm summer night.

"You're crazy, you know that, Walter?" I  
muttered into his ear, and I could feel his cheek move as he  
smiled again.

"No, I just love the rain. It makes me feel new. And  
young. And it's good for the garden, good for growing things.  
Doesn't it make you feel clean?"

"It makes me feel wet." I tried to deadpan it,  
but I had to laugh. His joy was so infectious, how could I  
resist? I pulled away from him, tripping the light, and  
reached my hand out for his. He took it, and I lifted our  
joined hands into the air before doing a neat twirl in and  
out, ducking slightly under his arm.

He chuckled--almost, I swear, giggled--and tucked a hand  
behind my back before dipping me back and kissing my rain-wet  
lips with his. The trees rustled noisily in the breeze and I  
cocked an eyebrow at him. "Our audience approves."

We righted ourselves and in a moment of simultaneous  
absurdity bowed to the damn gumball trees. We both succumbed  
to more laughter, and my sides were starting to hurt from it.  
I started towards the house, tugging at Walter's hand, and he  
followed me easily enough.

We stripped quickly in the bathroom, dumping our sodden  
clothes in the tub to be dealt with later. I shook my hair  
out like a dog and he cast a mock-askance glower at me before  
pulling me off towards the bedroom.

The rain had gone through our clothes just enough to leave  
us slightly damp and chilly to the touch. Our hands slid  
eagerly over each other's bodies as we rubbed skin to skin to  
get warm. I sucked the rich mineral elixir of rainwater from  
his chest, the top of his head, his arms. He was above me,  
and I tried to slip around him to get to his back.

His hands held my shoulders still, and he lowered his  
mouth to my ear. He murmured to me, "Just be still, be  
still," and the low vibration of his voice filled me  
with contentment, with safety and love and joy. We made love,  
and he fell asleep with his arms and legs wrapped around me.

I'm where I want to be forever.

I don't know what the weather will be like on Sunday, but  
I have a feeling it won't much matter.

^^^^^^^^^

The End


End file.
